by Duncan Lay
‘No!’ Martil lied unconvincingly.
‘Surely that is enough of a warning! Do you really want to go back to how you were before the battle of Pilleth?’
Martil glanced away. ‘I hear you,’ he said sullenly.
‘Good! Aroaril, we are trying to invade a country and take a massive city—and do it in days! We need every man we have and I need all the help I can get! Added to that, I want to get Karia back—you are not the only one afraid for her, the only one who loves her! So do you think I really want to send you away?’
‘Well, you did before,’ he said coldly.
She paused for a moment before exploding. ‘Yes, I did. And it was a mistake. But it seems keeping you here might be just as big a mistake!’ she shouted. ‘I can see where you are going—and it is not a good place! If we get into this city and, Aroaril forbid, Karia is dead, will you be able to control yourself—or will we have a massacre to make Bellic look like a skirmish?’
Martil stepped closer. ‘Those bastards took her, after everything else they have done. They deserve everything they get! And yes, I want to make sure they never threaten us again!’
‘Even if it means another Bellic? The nightmares from that, the agony you went through with the Dragon Sword—do you want that again? Do you want to destroy your future?’
‘Without Karia, I have no life worth living,’ he said simply.
‘And what about us? What about our child?’ she challenged.
‘How can I think about that now? And what would be the point? You promised we would marry, you spun me a tale of a rosy future—then as soon as you saw a piece of paper from Sendric, you threw that future away!’
‘Well, I was wrong! Perhaps I want to change things now. Perhaps seeing you fly away showed me how foolish I was.’ She stepped around the desk and walked closer to him.
He glared at her, breathing harshly. But as she drew closer, she sensed the conflict within him. The air in the cabin seemed suddenly thick, like the heaviness before a summer storm, as she reached out and put her hand on his chest.
Instantly he jerked backwards, as if stung.
‘How can I believe that now? How can I know this is not another of your tricks, your ways to manipulate me? Ever since I met you, you have been in my thoughts. But a man can only take so much. You twist things around, twist me around, make me confused. I cannot think of anything but getting Karia back. Everything else is just a distraction!’
With that he stormed over to the cabin door, yanked it open and slammed it behind him.
Merren buried her face in her hands. How could she have played this so wrong?
Onzalez was having trouble sleeping. Not from guilt or regret—although he did wish he had taken more control of the army outside the Norstaline capital. No, what kept him lying sleepless on his bunk was the thought of what waited back at Tenoch. The Seventeen had been servants to his will but there was a faction that desperately wanted him to fail, headed by a Fearpriest called Horna, who had been the nominal leader of the Seventeen until Onzalez had supplanted him. Horna’s supporters had been enthusiastically behind him until now—because they wanted him to make a mistake and then they could destroy him.
Now they had their chance, did they but know it. The trick was not letting them know.
The Dragon Egg would be vital in helping him fool them, Gello and his small army nearly as important. Once he would have been confident. But that had been before that damned priest of Aroaril had defeated him. He had never been thwarted before, never even been seriously challenged. But now a worm of doubt had crept inside him—and he lay awake at nights, worrying about what would happen.
‘What should I do?’ Merren asked.
Barrett shook his head. He was barely able to believe what Merren wanted from him. Even a few weeks ago, the thought of discussing Merren’s relationship with Martil would have had him incandescent with rage. If Tiera had not been here on board with him, he would have already exploded. But she had told him to keep his hatred for Martil hidden better. There was no benefit in it. Attacking Martil was not the way to impress Merren. Barrett wondered what he would have done without Tiera. Then he put that aside. It was not worth thinking about. Instead he concentrated on his reply to Merren.
‘You need to leave him alone. Give him time and space,’ he managed to say, finally.
Merren sighed. ‘I suppose you are right. But it feels so wrong to sit here and do nothing! As it is, he is affecting morale. He just sits there, glowering at Sendric and Lavrick. Look at what happened with that bird!’
‘We just have to get to land—and to Karia in time. But I think you should consider alternatives to Martil. He has proved he is not worthy…’
Merren grimaced and held up her hand. Obviously this was a mistake. She had not meant to speak of her fears to Barrett, of all people, but it had just slipped out.
Time hung heavily; there was a constant dread of waking up to find Argurium gone and the world doomed. The stress was getting to her—was getting to all of them—but she had nobody to talk to, with Louise and Gia back in the capital. Martil’s outburst at Lavrick, then at her, had been the final straw.
‘I know you don’t want to hear this, especially from me, but you must face the truth. Martil is turning back into the Butcher of Bellic and is not fit to be the wielder of the Dragon Sword, let alone a Queen’s consort—’
‘Enough!’ Merren snapped and he fell silent. ‘Barrett, I am sorry. I should not have begun this conversation. Please leave me,’ she said heavily.
He bowed jerkily and hurried out of the cabin, keeping his dark thoughts to himself. In the fresh air, he took a deep breath. How could Merren be so foolish? He could not help but think she was not the same Queen he had served faithfully for years. Now he knew he was not in love with her, he saw her in a completely different light. Sighing, he went in search of Tiera. Lately, only she seemed able to calm the anger within him.
Back at her da’s farm, then later in the woods with her half-brothers, Karia had learned several ways to try to make time pass. They used to leave her alone in the dark farmhouse, with its strange smells and noises, as well as at the camp, often without fire, in the dark forest, with its even stranger noises and cries. Many was the night when she had sat hunched in a corner of a room, or against a tree, crying and wishing only for the darkness to lift and the light to come again.
She had prayed never to feel that way again—but here she was, alone on the Fearpriest ship. And the darkness never seemed to end, even when it was light.
She did everything she could not to think about it. She counted the wooden nails in the timber beams and planks, the beams themselves and tried to sing every song she knew, retell every saga she had read, so as not to think of where she was. She had no intention of opening the door—except to Martil. She knew he was coming for her—she just had to hold on. She had a small barrel of water already in her room and, for food, she had called on some of the ship’s rats, who were happy to help. They brought her what they could find, from hard cheese to dried fruit. There wasn’t much of it but it kept her going and playing with them was entertaining, as well. She concentrated on that, rather than think about what might happen. Martil would come for her. She knew he would.
‘I think you should leave the Queen’s service when we return,’ Tiera said.
‘Leave? Why?’ Barrett asked.
They lay together in the small cabin. More and more, Tiera was bringing Barrett down here, trying to stop him from exploding at Martil.
‘This is not good for you. I know how you feel about Martil but it is obvious Merren loves him. How would it be, every day watching them together?’
Barrett’s silence said more than any words could.
‘If you left, we could find another country, far away from here. Your abilities would be prized wherever you went. And you would be happier, I know you would.’
‘I am happy as long as I am with you,’ he said with a smile.
She gri
nned back. ‘That sounds like a line from a saga! Will you think about it, at least? It hurts me to see what is happening to you, how it is eating you up inside.’
‘I do not need to leave—but I shall think about it, for you,’ he promised.
‘Captain!’
The cry startled Martil from sleep and he looked around wildly. The call had come from the masthead and he wondered if the lookout had spotted Lavrick betraying them. He had been ordered not to go up the mast after the last incident but it had not entirely stopped him watching the ship’s captain.
‘Sails! Sails on the horizon!’
Martil ignored Merren’s orders and led the race for the mast. He scrambled into the crow’s nest and nodded to the lookout, the Ralloran sergeant Redder, who had helped Kesbury escape the Berellians.
‘There, sir! Against the sky!’
Martil peered forwards, adjusting against the pitching of the ship against the waves. Up here, the movement was far more pronounced. For the past day or so, the sky had been grey and forbidding, the wind whipping the waves into whitecaps. Argurium’s magic had kept them all safe but it made it difficult to see what lay before them. This morning the sky was blue and clear—and outlined against it, at the very curve of the horizon, was a collection of tiny white sails.
Martil grinned and clapped Redder on the back before clambering back down, to where Merren, Barrett and the others were clustered around the mainmast.
‘They’re in sight! We’re catching them!’ he cried, and the men aboard let out a roar of triumph. ‘Havell, tell Argurium we need to go faster still!’
The Elfaran shook his head. ‘I cannot. We are driving the ships as fast as we can already. Any more and they will break apart. We are going faster than they were designed to—the timbers cannot take any more strain.’
Martil’s face darkened but Merren grabbed his arm.
‘We are catching them up. In another day or two we shall be beside them. Hold to that,’ she urged.
Martil managed to nod his head. ‘I shall,’ he vowed. ‘I will be ready at the bow.’
The lookouts spotted the sails behind them not long after dawn, but Gello had ordered they keep any sightings quiet and bring their news to him, not shout it out. Their pursuers could not be seen from the deck and he did not want panic sweeping through his force.
‘Tenoch will be in sight soon,’ Onzalez promised.
‘But will it be soon enough?’ Gello worried. ‘It will help us little if we are caught before we can reach the safety of the city!’
‘Perhaps I need to make a few sacrifices. I could choose some of the men, use their deaths to help me speed us up,’ Onzalez offered.
‘We need all the trained men we can get,’ Gello disagreed. ‘What about the Radiant Child? Surely she’s powerful enough to ensure you get us to safety—’
‘No!’ Ezok gasped. ‘You cannot!’
‘You dare to forbid me?’ Gello thundered.
Ezok bowed his head. ‘Forgive me, sire, but you cannot harm her! Without her, the Egg is useless to us!’
‘It is useless to us now. None of us know how to make it work—and its purpose is to get the Ruling Council of Fearpriests to accept us. That it can do with or without its wielder,’ Gello said viciously. ‘Our victory will not come through it, but through destroying my slut of a cousin when she lands behind us! I say she dies!’
‘Brother Onzalez, who knows what will happen to the Egg without the Child? We cannot risk it! The Ruling Council will be amazed by what they can see in the Egg now—none can doubt its power. But if we gave them reason to—’
‘Nonsense! I say she dies. Now!’ Gello ordered.
‘Brother!’ Ezok pleaded.
Onzalez wanted to give in to Gello. He wanted to secure the man’s trust, his loyalty. But the night-time fears came back and he licked dry lips. The Egg had to be at its most spectacular to impress Horna and his supporters.
‘No,’ he said finally. ‘Ezok is right. I shall not sacrifice the Radiant Child now. We need her to show the Council. Besides, they may want to send such a powerful being to Zorva. We should not waste this opportunity.’
Gello stepped closer. ‘Have a care, priest,’ he warned. ‘I do not like to have my orders questioned!’
‘Then give me two men who have displeased you—and it shall have the same effect. Do you want to reach land, only to be slain by the very people we thought would save us?’ Onzalez asked bitingly.
Gello glowered. ‘Do it then, priest. But do not cross me again.’
The sight of Gello’s fleet had cheered everyone. There was a new spirit about the men and Derthals, a fresh enthusiasm both for their duties and for their training. Many men and Derthals liked to join Martil at the bow, where he was talking to people for the first time in days.
‘We shall aim straight at Gello’s flagship, use the dragon’s magic to lay us alongside. I want you all to have specific tasks. There must be men to kill Gello, men to kill the Fearpriests and men to kill any of Gello’s officers. We will soak the decks in their blood so they can never come back to haunt us again. No more mistakes—we shall leave not one enemy alive to trouble us. If just one of them lives, then we and our families are not truly safe,’ he was telling them.
Merren wandered down, both to look at Gello’s fleet and hear Martil’s words. They chilled her, but not as much as the cheers of the men and Derthals did.
‘We must take Gello alive. Bring him back to Norstalos for trial!’ she called. ‘And that goes for any man who surrenders to us.’
The men and Derthals fell silent at her words, although Martil stared challengingly back at her.
‘Gello will never stand trial. He shall die on this!’ he promised, holding the Dragon Sword aloft.
The men and Derthals around him bellowed their approval.
Merren just stared at Martil until he looked away, but she was no longer worrying about winning him back. She was more concerned about him turning into the Butcher of Bellic.
‘Land!’
The cry from the masthead brought everyone out on deck.
Gello had ordered the lookouts to call out the moment they saw land. Despite his best efforts, the men knew they were being pursued, for all could see their pursuers. They were far behind, but coming on fast. Another day and they would be fighting for their lives. The tale of the demon with the unstoppable sword had been told and retold on every ship in the fleet until even the bravest among them were quaking.
But not now. Now they would reach land safely—and spring a trap on their hunters. Even those who had never seen Tenoch and never wanted to come to this strange land across the sea were grinning with delight.
‘There it is! Tenoch!’ Onzalez crowed. ‘Now let our enemies despair! If they follow us up the river, they will be wrecked! They shall land behind us and be swept into the sea! Then we shall be able to return and take everything!’
Gello watched the smear on the horizon grow until it resembled a rocky coast, thickly covered in trees. But not trees as he was used to. They towered impossibly high, were strung with vines and reverberated with the strange calls of stranger animals. Even though it was almost winter back in Norstalos, he could feel it was warmer here. But he was more interested in thinking about snatching victory from the jaws of defeat than about the trees and animals of Tenoch. He had been chased out of his country not once but twice. To return now, having destroyed Merren and her army far from their home, would be sweet indeed. That was the way to start a legend! The defeated hero comes back from across the seas to rule the world. He liked the sound of that. The only concern was Onzalez. They were joint commanders but the business over sacrificing the Radiant Child had disturbed him. He had thought Onzalez would obey his every suggestion before then. So would things change further once they were in Tenoch?
‘What do we do about the Radiant Child? Do we present her to the Seventeen?’ he asked, just to see what Onzalez would say.
‘Zorva willing, the Seventeen will be
satisfied with the Egg. But we should keep her in reserve, just in case we need more,’ Onzalez decided. He left unspoken the thought the Seventeen would be more interested in a powerful magical object than in knowing a vengeful army was about to land on their shores. ‘Ezok, she is your charge. Any trouble and you will both pay the penalty, understand?’
Ezok wiped a sweating brow.
‘She is too valuable to discard. The power she possesses, and can unleash through that Egg, is vast. We went to so much trouble to steal it. It would be an affront to Zorva to waste that now,’ he said.
Onzalez turned away. Not being able to use the power himself had diminished its value to him. He disliked the thought of having to be dependent on some capricious spirit or, worse, Ezok. If he could destroy the Witch Queen and her minions here, he would not need it. It could be put aside for later study. All he needed for now was for it to show some worth, to save his life.
‘It shall be our last resort. But make sure it is no trouble. And for Zorva’s sake, be ready to show my fellow Fearpriests some of its powers—they might need to see something! Understand?’
Ezok bowed and hurried away, his heart thumping painfully. He feared that might be too much to ask.
Karia lay listlessly on her bunk. She had not eaten anything for almost a day now. The rats had been unable to find any more food and, anyway, she did not have the energy to call them. Even the water barrel was empty but still she kept the door sealed. She did not want to see any of them. She did not want to do anything. She had heard activity on the ship, heard the cries that meant they were close to land. Even that did not stir her out of her despair.
Someone knocked on her door but she ignored it, as she had before. But, this time, the knocking did not go away.